The rain masked sound, but it could not mask intent.
Li Chen felt it as a pressure against his senses, crude and careless, like boots trampling through shallow water. The three cultivators did not bother concealing their Qi. To them, there was no need.
Outer disciples, Li Chen judged. Qi Condensation. Two maybe three.
He slowed his breathing until the ember within him dimmed to a fragile glow. His presence thinned, blurred at the edges. It was imperfect, but enough.
The footsteps stopped just outside the cave.
"Nothing," one voice said impatiently. "You sure the scouts weren't mistaken?"
Another scoffed. "Scouts don't imagine Qi ripples. Search it."
A shadow crossed the cave entrance.
Li Chen moved.
He burst forward, blade flashing in the dark. His strike was not elegant only precise. The first cultivator barely had time to widen his eyes before steel opened his throat. Blood sprayed warm across the stone.
The second reacted instantly, retreating as Qi surged around his body. "Ambush!"
Li Chen was already upon him.
Pain flared as Li Chen forced Qi through damaged meridians, his muscles screaming. He ignored it. His blade clashed against a hastily raised iron talisman, sparks flying. The impact hurled both of them apart.
The third cultivator drew a short saber, eyes sharp. "Qi Condensation Level Two," he said coldly. "Bold for a rogue."
Li Chen did not answer.
He waited.
The second cultivator lunged first, anger overriding caution. Li Chen sidestepped, slashed low, then kicked dirt into the man's eyes. As the cultivator cursed, Li Chen drove his blade up beneath the ribs.
The man collapsed, twitching.
The third cultivator's expression darkened. He gathered Qi into his saber, the blade humming faintly. "You'll regret this."
Li Chen advanced anyway.
Steel met steel.
The saber was stronger. Each clash numbed Li Chen's arms, rattling bone. His breath grew ragged, blood seeping from reopened wounds. The ember within him flickered violently.
Not enough, he thought.
So he changed tactics.
Li Chen retreated deliberately, leading the cultivator deeper into the cave. Darkness swallowed them. Water dripped from above. The floor grew uneven.
The cultivator followed, confident.
Li Chen stumbled on purpose.
The cultivator lunged
and slipped.
Li Chen surged forward, ignoring the pain, and drove his blade through the man's chest.
Silence returned.
Li Chen stood there, trembling, surrounded by bodies.
His vision swam. His hands shook. Slowly, he lowered himself to one knee and forced his breathing to steady.
He had killed three cultivators.
Not in desperation.
In calculation.
He searched their corpses quickly, efficiently. Spirit stones. Talismans. A basic movement technique. A sect token bearing a serial number.
Li Chen stared at the token.
Somewhere, a ledger would mark these men as missing.
Somewhere, Iron River Sect would notice.
He crushed the token beneath his heel.
The ember within him surged stronger, denser.
As blood soaked into stone, Li Chen felt it clearly.
Qi Condensation — Level Three.
He did not celebrate.
He cleaned his blade, gathered what he could carry, and vanished into the rain-soaked forest before dawn.
And somewhere within Iron River Sect, a faint disturbance rippled through the flow of karma.
A nameless ant had begun to bite.